


Gratitude

by Val_Creative



Category: DCU, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Bisexual Edward Nygma, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Gay Oswald Cobblepot, Introspection, M/M, Musical Instruments, Mutual Pining, Past Character Death, Pining Oswald Cobblepot, Season/Series 02, Socially Awkward Edward Nygma, Sweet Edward Nygma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:13:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28107600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: There's nobody like Edward in the whole world. Oswald wonders how he got lucky to have Edward at all.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 8
Kudos: 41
Collections: Gotham-X-Change-2020





	Gratitude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SegaBarrett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/gifts).



*

Oswald is _sick_ of it. 

He's sick of the memories and the sensation of loneliness crawling inside him like fruit flies under his skin.

That's it.

Oswald wants to forget how his lovely, saint-like mother asked what was wrong and why he looked _so sad_ as she fell in Oswald's arms. He cried, held her smiling and laughing for her, as she smiled and laughed and _died_ with Tabitha's knife protruding from her back.

Revenge seems to be a pointless notion. What good is living on to take revenge… if all there is to show for it… is _failure?_

Oswald fades in and out of consciousness. It's an apartment that smells like a mortuary's embalming fluid. Paint varnish and bleach. He finds himself propped up, wrapped up in new, sterile bandages under the pajamas hanging off Oswald's thin frame.

(At least there's no more getting jabbed with a sedative.)

Edward Nygma, in his mustard green schoolboy vest and thick rimmed glasses, hunches in front of a keyboard. He hums along with a woman's singing voice, pressing his fingertips deftly against the white-and-black musical keys. Oswald glares.

"Stop playing that song…"

"Then stop brooding," Edward drones, never looking up from his hands. "It's unbecoming."

Oswald mocks Edward's own words silently behind him. He folds his arms, grimacing. On the tray with a glass of water complete with a blue-striped straw, Edward left his knife. Oswald feels tempted to either stick it right in Edward's neck or his own. 

Anything to escape the _loneliness_.

Edward clasps onto the record player, lifting the needle. The woman's lullaby abruptly cutting off. Oswald's glaring frown eases as his _(companion? captor?)_ decides to try a new song. Despite all of Edward's awkwardness, he plays with a simple grandeur.

"Bach?"

The corner of Edward's mouth quirks. "Of course," he whispers.

Oswald shuts his eyes, leaning back on the pillows and allowing himself to relax for a moment. Behind his eyelids comes flashes of neon green outside Edward's apartment window. He can imagine it all glinting on the tips of Edward's dark, curling hair.

There's no escaping. Not now. Not with the injuries Oswald sustained.

"Don't you want the bed?" Oswald mutters. "You've been sleeping on your ratty old couch. I couldn't imagine doing that."

"It doesn't bother me, Mister Penguin."

"No?"

Edward's voice hovers out. He sounds so certain, and benevolent, and it makes Oswald's stomach warm. "You're my guest."

Oswald reopens his eyes to the other man turning on his stool, staring to him. Edward's hands rest on his own knees. He spoke of wanting to be a murderer — a _better_ murderer — and if Oswald didn't know better by now, he would have never guessed.

"Thank you, Ed." 

He rubs over his chapped-dry lips, over his face and nose with Oswald's palm. Exhaustion tingles the back of his skull.

As soon as Oswald lowers his hand, he discovers a stern-faced Edward leaning over him. They nearly share each other's breathing room.

One of Edward's hands reaches out.

Oswald swallows, his blue eyes widening and his face flushing hotly.

"Sorry to startle you. There was, uh, _this_ ," Edward gestures with a piece of lint he whisked from Oswald's hair, "stuck in there." He flicks it away carelessly, dusting off Oswald's shoulder, and there's no doubt in Oswald's mind that he's a little enraptured.

_"Ed…"_

"Did you know rockhoppers mate for life?"

Oswald lets out a genuine and embarrassed laugh, shaking his head. "No, not in the faintest." He watches the slow-creeping grin spreading on Edward's face and Oswald could get used to this. Having a friend. Having _someone_.

That's enough.

*


End file.
